


Not Like This

by Archangel_Reid



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A certain speedster lives because fuck you Whedon, Gen, I don't know, M/M, Sort of a fix-it, could be seen as friends, pre-relationship I guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 11:09:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12011475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel_Reid/pseuds/Archangel_Reid
Summary: When Pietro gets shot, Clint panics and reacts on instinct to save the kid who used to run circles around him





	Not Like This

   It wasn’t meant to end like this, not really. We were both supposed to leave in one piece. Sure, a little roughed up and grazed, but in one piece. Neither of us was meant to get shot, especially not him. We were meant to get out in one piece. But we didn’t.

   He was too quick for his own good, the kid was. One second he was a few hundred metres away and the next he was the only thing standing between me, a little boy and a few dozen bullets. He had covered that massive distance in the blink of an eye. All I had time to do was close my eyes, take a deep breath and shield the child from the coming onslaught of metal. When I dared to open them after the rhythmic clatter of machine gun fire came to an abrupt stop, he was still standing. He was a little shaky on his feet with a pained lopsided grin twisting his lips. His breath rattled in his chest as he wheezed out a quiet laugh.

   His accent became thicker as he forced each word out, his grin slipping only slightly. “You didn’t see that coming, huh?”

   His words breezed past my ears, none of them breaking through my stupor. I stared at him, watching as scarlet roses bloomed from the holes left behind by the paths of bullets. It seemed wrong, seeing the red slowly but surely taint the grey, blue and white of his top. For a moment I couldn’t believe that this twenty-four-year-old speedster had put himself between myself and almost certain death. What startled me, even more, was that even though his life was draining away from him, he was still wearing that goddamn stupid smile. It didn’t seem right. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. But then, when was life ever fair?

   He grunted and coughed as his knees buckled under him, no longer able to support his weight. He fell backwards, a faint groan and a gurgle escaping his throat as he hit the ground. My grip tightened around the child as I watched him fall. As soon as his body hit the ground with a soft ‘whumpf’, I was stumbling towards him. The kid followed closely, ghosting my every step. He clung tightly to the back of my coat like it could protect him from the harsh reality that had just unfolded in front of his eyes. Everything felt so much slower than before, my movements unbearably sluggish as I scrambled towards him over rough pieces of debris. Everything sounded like it was muted and far away; explosions, screams and gunfire sounded like they were miles away from us as I focused on the young man bleeding out in front of me. I checked for even the faintest beat of a pulse in his wrist, in his neck and prepared myself for the worst.

   Ba… Bump… Ba… Bump…

   It was there, but slowing with every second that passed. Thanking whatever god or deity that had allowed his heart to keep struggling on, I scooped him up and ran. The child he had practically given his life to save dogged my steps all the way to the evacuation craft. The mischievous light that normally danced in his eyes slowly got dimmer, fading away to almost nothing as he became heavier in my arms.

   The run to the evacuation transport felt like it was too long, like the vehicle was too far away. Fear started to knot itself into my gut, tying itself around my innards and tugging tighter, threatening to cut off any and all oxygen that my body was desperately trying to get to keep myself moving. If I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move. If I couldn’t move, that would be the end of him. If that was the end of him, I would never forgive myself and I doubted his sister would forgive me either.

   When I finally stumbled onto the cool steel of the transport, I scouted for a spare area free of refugees. There weren’t many but there was a fairly large space that was close enough. I strode towards it, not quite registering the kid leaving my side or his mother screaming as she hugged him tightly. All I could think about was the man in my arms who was barely really starting his life but had been willing to give everything to save a kid. I couldn’t quite believe it but it happened.

   I set him gently on the floor as relief washed over me in waves. I did it. There was hope for the young European yet. My senses slowly started to come back as medics brushed past me to work on him, uttering apologies as I was moved to the side. The fear of losing him loosened in my gut and something new intruded. Pain. There was a small ragged hole in my side oozing blood in slippery streams as it soaked into my own clothing. At this point, I couldn’t tell whose blood was whose. Compared to what he had, the wound was just a small annoyance, just one more little thing to worry about. I groaned and collapsed onto the row of empty seats beside him and the bustling medics. Just another bloody annoyance. But he was safe and for that I was thankful.

   “Oh, it’s been a long day…” The words slip out as a sigh as I close my eyes. I barely noticed as the soft thrumming of the crafts turbines and the quiet murmur of medics lulled me to sleep.


End file.
